O: It's okay, momma. I don't need a tissue. I can use my shirt!

Today, I found

a half eaten apple in my bed,

at least a tablespoon of sesame seeds ground into my kitchen rug,

paint splatters on the wall in the living room,

three and a half pairs of sand-filled shoes on the dining room floor,

a mysterious, grey and brown smear on the wall behind the toy basket,

and a sippy cup of what used to be milk under the couch.

I have wiped butts, noses, and hands, and the hands were the grossest of the three. I have been sneezed at, peed on, and licked. I have made them beautiful meals, only to turn my back for a minute to discover that they have poured the milk over their fish, or dropped hunks of mashed potato into their cup of water, creating some inedible, unholy stew that I will later have to scrape off of their tiny, brightly colored dishes.